Unpaid work

Yesterday I started my volunteer gig at a physical therapy department at a hospital. My first day was great except that I got hungry towards the end. I like the place, I like the interesting machines, the hydroculators, the oxygen tanks, the crutches that were really shiny. It’s a pretty large rehab space. The PT that I will be working with seems fabulous so I think I will be able to learn a lot.

But most importantly, I get to wear a blue coat. Not as impressive as a white doctor's coat, but still, it's a coat. I'd totally look like I'm part of hospital staff if I could just scratch “volunteer” off my id card.

Pippi

Idag såg jag en tant som spelade fiol på en såg precis som i Pippi Långstrump!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pippi_Longstocking

Snow

It snowed AGAIN. Enough already, it's not pretty. I think technically I'm supposed to shovel now that Sean is not here (under agreement with the landlord). I'm SO not shoveling. All the neighbors are already out there with their shovels. But I'm not going to. Why should I break my back just so that people can walk by our place comfortably? If it's so difficult to walk through a few inches of snow, then don't walk by our apartment. And, the snow always melts within a few days anyway, so really. A general rule that I follow is that if you ignore something long enough it will disappear.

Now where did I put my coffee?

rate=k[A]n[B]m

I've studied way too much chemistry today. Integrated rate laws, equilibrium, reaction rates, my head hurts. I need to do well on a test coming up.

Luckily, my sister helped me figure out how to use my new fancy calculator. I still don't know how to go from the notes section back to the regular screen, without turning the whole thing off and then on again, but oh well. I am improving though - when I first got the machine I didn't even know how to turn it on. I bet if I read the manual really thoroughly I could figure out how to email people from my calculator. I bet that exists.

The cat and I are sharing a bottle of wine tonight (if I can find enough change in the apt. which I will). Next week I hope I'll get a chance to hang out with people who are not furry.

Talk

Since I'm not working, and since most people I know are, I don't get to socialize or talk to anyone until late afternoon or evening when I have my classes. My daytime conversations have been reduced to one-or-two word sentences, like this:

deli-man: Hey, how you doin'? That's all?
me: Yeah...
deli-man: Cold out, huh?
me: Yeah, terrible.
deli-man: Gonna get worse this weekend.
me: Really?
deli-man: u-huh. Take care now, have a good day.
me: Thanks. You too.

Same conversation every day, with some variations depending on the weather.

Crunch

There was an idiot at the gym yesterday who was running on the treadmill in his regular clothes. Why would you go on the treadmill in your jeans? He was running really fast too, my guess is at least speed 8.0, much faster than the regular gym guys next to him. The craziest thing I've ever done at the gym is work out without shoes, socks only, but that's because I forgot to bring my sneakers that day. Not nearly as weird as the dude wearing jeans.

R.I.P.

Last week I killed a mouse. I haven't told many people about this since I'm struggling with guilt, shame and confusion. The mouse was stuck to a gluetrap behind the fridge, still moving, so I decided to put the trap and mouse in a plastic bag, put the bag on the floor in the hallway outside, and wack it really hard with the wooden part of a broom - blunt-force trauma. It's my first kill ever.

I have killed bugs before, of course, but that doesn't count because bugs are not real animals, they're bugs. There's also a sense of satisfaction after you kill a bug (which is not the case after a mouse-kill), as if you did something good for humanity. "Great job, I'm impressed," my friend Amy usually says when I triumphantly call her to tell her I squashed another little bastard with the yellow pages.

A mouse, however, is an animal. It has a family and a social network. If I tell people I killed a mouse, most likely they will say "eeeeeewwww" or "oh-my-Goood" or "nooo waaaaay" which will put me in a guilt-ridden defensive mode, having to justify my deed with lengthy explanations. And even if people tend to agree that the mouse had to die (sure, it's better to kill it than to let it die slowly) inside they're still thinking "eeeeeew" and they'll never look at you the same way again. I'm a killer.

#^$%@&$ Box

I have always disliked the office jargon "think outside the box." Exactly what freaking box are we talking about here? Ok, I get it. It means something like: be creative, figure out a new perspective, solve the problem. So why not just say that? Why "the box"?

Since I find this saying so annoying, I was absolutely thrilled the first day of class when our paramedic instructor told us: "In this profession we think IN-side the box. You think outside the box, people die." Ha! Not only is thinking outside the box frowned upon, it means death - DEATH.

Structure, rules, protocol. This is perfect.

Lift with your legs

I had my first practical session in my EMT class. We learned how to carry each other up and down the stairs on stretchers, scoop up fellow class mates from confined spaces, and load the wheeled-stretcher onto the ambulance. All this was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Even skinny-scrawny-scraggly people are really heavy.

It’s especially difficult to get the stretcher and patient off the ground in the first place. The instructor offered hints on how to lift properly -“with your legs!” - and what techniques to use from these very low positions.

“Sit the way you would when you’re catching a baseball,” he said as I struggled to raise the stretcher. “But I never caught a baseball,” I replied. An awkward silence followed and I felt a sudden strong urge to tell him that I can throw a football really well. “Like this,” he continued, kneeling on one knee and sort of squatting with the other leg.

I need to start lifting weights again. And maybe watch a ball game or two.

5-0

This morning I witnessed a vestige of old Fort Greene. Two undercovers carrying big guns were arresting a couple of kids from the high school up the block. I was a little too late for the real action, as cops had already secured the area, but jackets and items strewn across the side walk gave clues to some type of battle. I walked a little slower as I passed by and got a good peak into the undercovers' car - laptops, radio stuff, portable sirens. How 21 Jump Street. Then I went and picked up vitamins at the pharmacy.

Pathmark

I hate shopping for groceries. Being in a supermarket is just so unpleasant. Usually I just dart in to the corner deli, pick up pasta and mushrooms and go home. But apparently that's not the cheapest way to live so now I'm trying out the supermarket thing.

Pathmark by the Atlantic center in downtown Brooklyn is huge. You could probably fit all the delis in Park Slope and Fort Greene in there and still have space left over for those coin change machines (whatever they're called). There are about 30 registers, no kidding, with grumpy bitter register-ladies who answer "Uh-huh" or "Mm-hmmm" when you say thank you. Lots of people no matter what time of day you go (it's open 24/7). Too much stuff, too many decisions to make. Outside is mayhem with cabs picking up shoppers. Inside is mayhem with people shopping. And then you have to stand and wait on line forEVER only to be greeted by one of those bitter ladies.

I don't understand how people in the suburbs do this on a regular basis. I'm not sure I can go back.

Africa

Sean just called from Africa :)

He made it to Liberia safely and a couple of co-workers picked him up. He called on his cell from the car leaving the airport. They are now on a dark road somewhere in or around Monrovia, heading for the compound.

The cat

The cat has come to terms with me being home a lot. He no longer chases me out of the room and he no longer bites my calf when I sing. It's understandable that my presence would make him irritable since the apartment has (until now) basically been his between the hours of 9a-6p.

He still wacks me with his paw when he wants to go outside. Since it looks so bright and sunny out he forgets that it's February and it's freezing. He basks in the sun with his hair all puffed out, only to realize that it's not so cozy in the yard at this time of year. I let him suffer for about five minutes and then I let him in. He curses at me as he passes me in the doorway. Same routine everyday.

I think we have established our territories - I get the study desk and he gets the rest of the crib. In the evening we're best friends again and we hang out on the couch together.

Sat 10th Feb

Woke up. Crappy diner. Took a nap. Helped Sean pack. Napped again. Woke up. Sean was done packing. Sean left for Africa. The cat and I are all alone......... :(

"Have you called Jenny yet?"

My cold has given me a deep, raspy voice - kind of like Kirstie Alley's. I think I like my new raspy voice. It's hot, if I may say so myself.

Last night I was using my voice a lot in the EMT class, asking really great questions. I'm sure by now everyone there thinks I'm a cool person, based on my voice if nothing else. It is important to be cool in this class because most students are pretty tough. The majority are men (about 95% out of 45 students) and a lot of them have backgrounds in law enforcement, the fire department or the armed forces. They have really short haircuts and when they address the teachers they say "Sir".

The instructors are pretty bad-ass also. The main instructor, the lecture-man (Instructor P.) is a retired cop who worked as a medic during the Vietnam war. He has a deep raspy voice as well. His assistant (instructor Rodriguez) is a serious looking paramedic who is always in uniform. We're not allowed to piss him off, he says, because he doesn't like to be grumpy. For the most part, we avoid instructor Rodriguez.

Sometimes instructor Rodriguez saunters into the classroom as instructor P is lecturing and he walks over to P and whispers something. We all strain to hear what's being said but we can never really make it out. Instructor P usually nods and stays silent for a few seconds, and then continues lecturing without missing a beat. Instructor Rodriguez walks over to the other side of the room, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans against the wall. Occasionally, Rodriguez doesn’t even say anything, he just makes subtle gestures that encourages instructor P to nod thoughtfully.

I hope I’m still cool when my deep raspy voice is gone and I’m back to my old squeaky self.

Laundry

Doing laundry on a Thursday morning is amazing. I was the ONLY person there, except for the laundry-man. He should just give me the key and I can open up shop and he wouldn't even need to be there. Laundry-man was the first person I spoke to today and when I opened my mouth I sounded like a frog (or maybe a teenage boy going through puberty). I have a terrible cold again. Laundry-man and I discussed our colds and our sinus problems for a while, it was good.

Introduction

It's the second week of my new life. After a 7 year stint as a fabulous researcher, I have decided to switch gears - I quit the j-o-b and became a student again. Officially I'm a "post-baccalaureate pre-med" student, fancy, fancy, which essentially means I'm stuck taking undergraduate science courses such as Chem, Phys and Bio, courses that I (for good reasons) avoided in my younger and wilder days. Goal: getting into a good PT school and starting a new career in the medical field.

Enough of that. If you visit me here, you'll be able to read updates and summaries about my intersting life - sometimes in bullet-points form, sometimes as narratives.

I will try to answer questions such as:

- How much more expensive are delis than supermarkets?
- Who are those people riding the subway at say, 11:30am?
- To which places can you wear your pyjamas without getting funny looks?
- What is it like only talking to your cat all day long?

All this and much more, coming up. Stay tuned.

k.